Saturday, April 23, 2011

Every Day For A Year #16

( Really? It's part 16 and you still don't know what's going on? Alrighty, then - go have a wander around over hereand the rest of us will cop a squat under a tree and wait for you. And maybe listen to the most compulsively annoying electronic cat song ever here. )

I'm feeling all creative, so I thought I'd kick off this latest batch of Frosty's photos with a poem. Try not to explode with like, awesome overload and stuff. Maybe sit down.

Ahem.

Frosty's got no shower'cause the plumber's fixing leaksSo he hasn't washed his armpits nowFor six or seven weeks.

Despite his unbecoming funkAnd film of dark'ning grime,He's still recording imageryRectangular, sublime.

From ties to textures pebblyOn to statues, glass and tin;There's barely squares of pictureThat he's not an expert in.

The last one's of a showerWishful thinking, one might sayBecause our Frosty's smelling quite a bit Like corpses mixed with hay.

If any of you plan on getting that poem tattooed on yourself, I'd really appreciate credit. And I think you should get it on your arse.